“Will you tell Captain Bunnett that his wife, Mrs. Bunnett, is here?” said that lady, a thin little woman with bright black eyes.
“Yes, mum,” said the seaman, and was hurrying off when Mrs. Fillson called him back.
“Will you tell Mr. Fillson that his wife, Mrs. Fillson, is up here?” she said politely.
“All right, mum,” said the other, and went below to communicate the pleasing tidings. Both husbands came up on deck hastily, and a glance served to show them how their wives stood.
“How do you do, Cap’n Bunnett,” said Mrs. Fill-son, with a fascinating smile.
“Good-morning, marm,” said the skipper, trying to avoid his wife’s eye; “that’s my wife, Mrs. Bunnett.”
“Good-morning, ma’am,” said Mrs. Fillson, adjusting the new bonnet with the tips of her fingers.
“Good-morning to you,” said Mrs. Bunnett in a cold voice, and patronising. “You have come to bring your husband some of his things, I suppose?”
“She’s coming with us,” said the skipper, in a hurry to have it over. “Wait half a moment, and I’ll help you down.”
He got up on to the side and helped them both to the deck, and, with a great attempt at cheery conversation, led the way below, where, in the midst of an impressive silence, he explained that the ladies would have to share the state-room between them.